“Slow down!” you called over Sam’s shoulder, voice squeaking as you did.
Your feet shuffled along at a cartoonish speed, all in a vain attempt to keep up with the long strides of your sasquatch of a boyfriend. One of his steps equaled at least three of yours. You had to lunge forward and latch into his swinging arm to keep him from cresting the hill you were trudging up and abandoning you completely.
“I’m just walking,” Sam chuckled, looking back at you with an amused expression. His eyes flicked down to the hands clasped around his forearm. His grin only widened and turned more taunting.
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault you have freakishly long legs.”
“I don’t have freakishly long legs,” Sam said, jerking his arm forward and giving you a bit of a tug in the right direction. “Maybe you just have freakishly short legs.”
“I do not!” You tugged right back. “I’m totally average.”
You wrapped yourself further around Sam’s muscled arm and yanked it towards your chest, digging your heels into the loose gravel beneath your feet and attempting to slow him down with brute force. Except it didn’t work. Sam only plowed forward and pulled you along behind him like a stubborn child.
He laughed and spun to face you, pulling you against his chest and smiling down at you from his impossibly high vantage point. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that,” he teased.
“Everyone looks short beside you!”
“That’s true enough,” he said, “but you’re especially tiny.” Sam pulled himself out of your grasp and looped his newly-freed arm around your waist, a grin spreading across his face. “Now comere, shorty.”
Before you had a chance to protest Sam had hoisted you into the air and was carrying you bridal style, strong arms under your legs and back, speed increasing exponentially.
“I’m not short,” you grumbled, half insulted that he didn’t think you could keep up and half relieved that you no longer had to try.
He rubbed his thumb on your leg. “I know you’re not.”
“You’re just tall.”
You paused and looked him over, unsure whether or not you should be fighting back. You held tighter to Sam’s broad shoulders and decided against it. “Well … good then,” you mumbled.
Sam only smiled and held you closer, nearing the bunker in record time without you dragging along behind him like dead weight. You rested your head on his chest and let him whisk you away to your home, his warmth seeping into your bones and helping to cut the chill of the night.
Sam kissed the top of your head with the softest brush of his lips. “Shorty.”
*These gifs are not mine, both the gifs are from Google Images*